Elimination
by EHWIES
Summary: One week, seven roses, no note. xx Happy Valentine's Day.


**Elimination**

On the first day, she is startled. It's only the eighth of the month—who would dole out Valentines this early, anyway? More surprising is the thought that she's been chosen over her roommates: Lily is pretty, and Mary is popular, and there's never room for Marlene—gangly, awkward Marlene.

In fact, she's surprised that she's been noticed at all.

On the second day, she is flattered. Two roses in two consecutive days… might it not be a whim, then? No, Marlene tells herself at an afterthought, two days is hardly a commitment. They're probably just from some third year who thinks she's the best he can do—or, worse, a prank from the Marauders. She's never much minded their troublemaking, but if this keeps up, she might have to agree with Lily about them.

All day, she can't let the idea go, and she can't help herself and shoots their gaggle a furtive look at dinner. Peter is the first to notice her, but from the absolutely baffled expression on his face, they can't be involved.

Damn… mortifying though it may have been, Marlene still would have appreciated an alternative to the stalker third year option.

On the third day, she is curious. Who in Merlin's name would ever bother giving roses to _her_? She reflects on each of the three roses: Saturday's at her usual seat in the Great Hall for lunch, yesterday's in her favorite morning armchair by the fire, today's on her desktop in Muggle Studies—since she's ruled out the Marauders, it's bound to be one of the Hufflepuffs in the class. Marlene directs her furtive look at them this morning, and though she knows she's acting spoiled, she's a bit disappointed in what she sees. The only remotely appealing one is Reginald Cattermole, and he's strictly off-limits, as Mary's been carrying a torch for him since she was thirteen.

Oh, well. At least now she knows that it can't be a third year.

On the fourth day, she is skeptical. It's not like anything of this nature has ever happened to Marlene before, and why would it? She scrutinizes herself in the dormitory mirror while the other girls are sleeping, trying to find one feature that a boy might find attractive in her, and can't.

To her great misfortune (or what feels like it, anyway), Mary catches her at it and asks what on earth she's doing. Nothing, says Marlene, and she tucks in her blouse and searches for a clean pair of robes.

On the fifth day, she is embarrassed. It's resting innocently on her desk in History of Magic today, and to Marlene, this is all sorts of wrong: not only does she realize that it's from one of the Gryffindor boys, but she has to witness a row between Lily and James when the redhead mistakes it as hers.

Potter, you insufferable prat, shove _off_ already—

Evans, it's for McKinnon.

You gave a rose to Marlene?

Hasn't she told you? She's been getting them all week. Even _I_ noticed that, and you, of all people, know how thick I can be, don't you, Evans?

Oh, Marlene thinks as she spots the look on Remus's face. Oh, dear.

On the sixth day, she is ashamed. The rose is dropped in her goblet of pumpkin juice by one of the school owls for all of Hogwarts to see, and she snatches it out and leaves the Great Hall without first finishing her dinner.

On the seventh day, she is enlightened. It's finally the fourteenth, and she's convinced that it's all been a mistake, maybe Sirius's idea of a joke, when she's roseless at the end of the day. She should have seen it coming, but still, her ink blots angrily over most of her lines in detention that night—for Binns, because she allegedly provoked the row on Wednesday.

Binns doesn't stick around—not that he was watching before he left—just tells her to fill a meter of parchment by curfew and leave it on his desk. Halfway through her task, though, Marlene is startled again, and it's a very different sort of startling from that of last Saturday when a shaking hand clutching a rose appears before her.

Happy Valentine's Day, says James Potter.

She can't believe it's him, and she can't believe what's happening when he kisses her, either. They are fourteen—gangly, awkward fourteen—and they bump noses and blush when his glasses hit her forehead, and she has so many questions, but oh, there will be time for questions later, and don't they have all the time in the world?

Too soon, he leaves her to finish her lines.

Why are you going? asks Marlene.

Binns might see me, says James, and he'll tell the staffroom, and they'll tell the students, and we can't have that.

Why do we have to be a secret?

Enough questions, says James shortly, and he leaves her with a last, lingering peck on the lips.

(On the eighth day, she is fragile, shooting him glances he doesn't return; and the longer they go on like this, the more she thinks that one day it'll break her.

She can't explain it, but she doesn't like Lily Evans much after that.)


End file.
